


100 Tales for 100 Phrases

by aykayem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-02-24
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of 100 drabbles. Ratings vary per chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire

Draco had a tendency to dream of fire those days. It was hardly every day that one of his friends - no, not a friend. More an accomplice, if anything - died at the hands of flames. It wasn’t his fault, he told himself every night; it wasn’t anyone’s fault. An unfortunate accident, he concluded through the screaming thoughts of conflagration. He trembled again, shutting his eyes against the heat of his hysterical delusions; he opened them against another. Harry’s arms around him, hushed whispers in his ears as he shook. Hushed nothings meant to bring him away from his pained reality.


	2. Bold

They were both nothing if not a bold person; perhaps for that reason and that reason alone, they were more alike than either initially anticipated. Throughout school, both had been so bold as to go out of their respective ways to bother the other, whether it be over something petty or something monumental. Somewhere along the line, hate turned to jealousy turned to obsession turned to some realm of affection. Their mockery began to flirt with the edges of something more; their verbal blows soon grew to trading love bites in abandoned corridors. And no one was ever the wiser.


	3. Precise

Harry always admired how everything his lover did was perfect in every way. Maybe he was biased in that sense, maybe he simply thought it to be perfect because it was Draco. No one else could ever stand up to the standards his lover - his precious blond, precise and intelligent - had set long ago; in all likelihood, Harry didn’t want them to. He had been scorned and forgotten, misused and abused, now taking refuge in the knowledge that he didn’t have to be perfect. Draco was content in the knowledge that both had cracks, both were rough around the edges.


	4. Generation

There was quite the gap between how Harry was raised and the methods in which the children of the next generation were, he decided one day. Maybe it was when he saw Draco Malfoy after so long that day at King’s Cross that he realised it, or maybe it was simply something that came to him over time. It was obvious from one glance: Scorpius was nothing like his father. Of course, there was always ample possibility that Draco had changed over the years, whether forgiving or not; simply rearing a child could do that to a man, after all.


	5. Lessons

Hands-on lessons were decidedly the best type of lessons to have; there was so much more to be learned from simply touching and feeling something, rather than merely hearing about it. Simple experimentation, Draco had called it, drawling softly in his ear, barely audible, but more than enough to hitch Harry’s breath in anticipation of long-fingered hands ghosting over his nudity, pointed nose burying in his hair and inhaling the scent of the Quidditch pitch and charms gone awry. There was just so many hidden lessons in the way bare skin moved against another, slick with sweat, loud with groans.


	6. Openings

Draco was well-prepared for any job that might come his way. He always had been, he always would be. He liked to pride himself on that, along with precisely how adaptable he could be. There was little he wouldn’t do, little work he wouldn’t take up. Really, it was only when it came down to being transferred out, far and away across the Ministry and into Harry Potter’s domain that he so much as raised a brow quizzically. One spectacularly handsome man - far removed from the boy he once knew - and an appreciative glance later, and it wasn’t that bad.


	7. The Point

The point of the thing was less what he initially thought of Harry - really what he thought of Harry at all - and more that he loved him, plain and simple. Draco had never been one for over-analysing certain things, illogical as they seemed and as much as they ill-defined his over-developed sense of observation; it was one of the simple facts of life, like how he much preferred the feeling of a cock in his hand than the sickly sweet taste of perfume permeating his every pore following any female interaction. Harry was rarely sickly sweet; Harry was simply himself.


	8. Spark

It was probably sixth year when the spark hit. When eyes meeting across the Great Hall brought on carefully hidden smirks, knowing and devious, rather than harsh and glowering glares; when words exchanged were nothing short of rushed whispers, egging the other on harder, faster, rougher, and not standard one-liners, spat with thinly veiled disdain. Some spark, some flash of interest that brought on curiosity. Curiosity that further developed the spark into a heat spreading deep through loins, and pooling in stomaches at every fleeting glance caught through the mingling crowds. Sixth year into seventh, seventh into years far beyond.


	9. Lips

It had been twenty years, three months, five days, and twenty seven minutes past the hour since lips first brushed, the feeling lingering deep in the memories of both involved parties. Twenty years of trying to recall precise expressions of the other, the images fading into one another until nothing but vague descriptions remained. Replaced by images of lovers young and old, recent and long since past. Of wives, of marriage, of children playing. Of things not related to a brief affair conducted late, long past curfew, with fumbling hands unsure of what they were doing, lips brushing ghostly lips.


	10. Hooked

There was something to be said for drugs not originally meant to be drugs, things with indescribable manners through which one could - daresay - become addicted. Draco Malfoy’s mouth was that way for him, holding licks of taste lingering, pale lips to be bitten and sucked, turned a deep red from careful - or rough - snogs. It held secrets behind a tight line, pulling into a teasing smirk at one corner or - more often than not - sneering its distaste for the world. Even so, it was fascinating, the only true show of the man’s emotions to Harry, even beyond harsh, grey eyes.


	11. Fringe

It was in all likelihood that neither of their hair could be considered cut into a ‘fringe’, per se - those were for girls, after all, a crime neither of them was guilty of - but rarely did that stop Harry from playing with his, comparing it to Draco’s in any way he could. Maybe it was because Draco was so blond, and he so dark, or maybe the texture - Draco’s sat flat, doing whatever he wanted it to, while Harry’s own flew away like nobody’s business, as if his head were the last place it wanted to be. Bloody complex, that.


	12. Eden

Eden. Definitively the place from which Adam and Eve were dispelled for their disobedience, it was widely accepted as a paradise of sorts. For Draco, that paradise - untouched and unsullied by anyone or anything - was Harry’s arms. They were warm and welcoming, always open if and when he needed them; any time something bothered him - not a rare occasion, much to Harry’s disappointment - it was a place he could find himself soothed and relaxed, content in the knowledge he wasn’t alone. He would never be alone, not after all they had gone through. It was a promise Harry intended keeping.


	13. Want

Wanton desire was nothing Draco was unfamiliar with; he had grown up with his parents feeding him lines about how whatever he wanted, he would get. He couldn’t think of anything that ever denied that very statement, considering they had always provided him with things he could barely even fathom. It had always been that way, since before he could walk, all the way through school; when he found the one thing he wanted and couldn’t have, it was beyond his very comprehension. It was likely that logic alone that kept him antagonising the poor boy - attempting to get close.


	14. Distraction

Harry was an easily distracted bloke. If a bird went by the window in the wrong class, he was lost for the rest of the duration of it; if the sun was shining, thoughts of Quidditch would distract him from notes or potions, the latter of which usually resulted in a swift cuff about the ear and a hissed warning to focus on his work. The more time passed, the more things seemed to distract him. Thoughts of girls led to thoughts of boys, and thoughts of boys led to thoughts of Malfoy. The bloke was just so damn pretty.


	15. Against

It was rare for a rivalry to go on so long, Harry thought to himself one day, staring idly out a window; normally he was the type to simply get bored with it. Yet somehow, something about Malfoy kept him more than interested, to the point of going out of his way to learn new things about the blond. They were like a pair of perpetual forces moving against each other, working against each other; like black and white, night and day - tight and loose? Good and evil, however, were too absolute - neither of them truly fit the right criteria.


	16. Plastic

He was always open for chaste kisses and cuddles on the couch, but really, when it came down to it, the kinkier it got, the better it was. Any time Draco had Harry at his mercy, bound and gagged, with faint bruising from the ropes or handcuffs - metal, of course - with his arse up in the air, that was when he was happiest. Today’s toy led to zip ties, the kind you couldn’t break, couldn’t get off without scissors or a neatly well-placed charm; Harry loved how they cut into his wrists, and Draco loved the cries his lover made.


	17. Protection

If there was one thing Draco had always wanted, it was protection. Protection from his father’s disapproving glares, from the shoes he had to step into - large and unnerving. From the Mark now ghosting his arm with thick black lines and writhing symbolism. If anyone could manage it, could properly stand up to the Dark Lord and take the place of all those Draco thought were standing by - idly, as it seemed - it was Harry. For that, he was not only grateful, but felt an undying sense of loyalty; perhaps it was his family’s distinctive traits that made it so.


	18. Ultimate

Despite his upbringing telling him - and all those around him - otherwise, there was nothing Draco liked more than a good evening spent on the couch in the arms of his lover. Even Harry found it strange that such a pristinely well-kept young man would enjoy something so silly and domestic, but Draco didn’t care. It was his ultimate evening, especially when Harry agreed to simply sit, watching something on the telly - Muggle football or some rerun of a soap opera - with no fear of anything between them both. Things were far different from when they were younger. They were free.


	19. Hour

Only an hour left of class, only an hour - sixty little minutes - left until they could get the hell out of dodge and back into a clasping embrace. Until they could toss away past inhibitions with clothing in the nearest empty classroom, pressing close and pressing lips to one another; until there was nothing more than the two of them, locked in fervent passion as they got each other off with hands, mouths, wet kisses, erect flesh on flesh. The world could disappear, and neither would care, not as long as they were together, fully left in strong, capable hands.


	20. City

The first time Draco went to the city with his mother, he clung to her robes like the bright, wide-eyed child he was; despite his upbringing telling him how much better he was than everyone, it was huge and amazing, like nothing he’d seen before. The first time Harry went to the city, it was a less than desirable experience, something he wanted to be done with as soon as possible. The first time they met in that same city, both knew there was something, though it wasn’t a definable something their children’s minds would comprehend until much, much later.


	21. Treasures

Most of the Malfoy fortune was compiled in quantifiable categories - here, there was portraits of ancestors past; over there, piles of galleons and sickles, a recent count pinned to a wall; down the hall, in a chest of drawers, a collection of jewels from both Black and Malfoy families. The Potter fortune, however, was evident not through only galleons and gems, but through photographs and love as seen through smiling faces of those long since departed; it was through friendship, and caring, and loyalties unwavering through trial and tribulation. It was through bringing things together, making the most of everything.


	22. Pillar

Everyone looked to someone for strength, Harry learned at a young age. Maybe it was because he had no rock, no pillar on which to lean when he needed it most that he noticed it more than everyone else; maybe it was that same reason that led him to Ron and Hermione in first year. Maybe he refused Draco’s hand that same year for lack of seeing any kind of sustaining strength in the Slytherin. Whatever his reasons may have been, he learned it later: that everyone needed a pillar, and that he had fallen into that role for Malfoy.


	23. Fresh

There was an idea Draco entertained as he grew up, an idea of changing himself. Of trying on someone else’s life until he could find some place he was content. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to be himself, or a Malfoy, but more that everyone else just seemed so much more interesting, so much more fresh in terms of their personalities. As realities set in, there was one face in particular, one person who was so much like him, yet so different - he couldn’t help but wonder idly what it would be like to share that life.


	24. Faster

It was a perpetual, pleading cry torn from Draco’s abused vocal cords as his hands clenched and unclenched about the sheets of his bed, mingling with groans and wracked with ecstatic shrieks; Harry always obliged, hands clamped tight around his lover’s hips, his mouth pressed wet against that pale abdomen. He was met consistently with fresh moans, Draco’s hands finding their way to his hair, clinging as he panted, closer to climax - Harry really should have learned how the blond liked it by that point: fast and rough, marks visible from their zealous pleasures spent together each and every night.


	25. Evolution

Most of the time, evolutions came slow, through generations upon generations of persisting in some habitat and developing the proper traits for extended survival. Draco’s evolution came from one summer; simply the loss of his father to Azkaban and having to take his place as a Death Eater had prompted changed him, moving him from nothing more than a child - naive and proud of his family through everything - to a young man - broken and terrified. That was where Harry Potter came in, taking his rightful place as the Boy Who Lived, so that others might as well. Such as Draco.


	26. Twist

The music was pounding, the room poorly lit, bodies writhing all around like a pit of snakes. Draco in the centre, surrounded on all sides by thrusting motion; one set of eyes locked on him, an intent stare of desire penetrating the club - everything was silent for a moment, grey eyes turning to meet green with a devious grin. Beckoning, urging him closer with just a few twists of his hips, alluring and seductive. Eyes never left each other, gazing and staring. There was an absolute art to fucking with the eyes, and both men had mastered it long ago.


	27. Fusion

The combination of two or more things into a single entity. Any time Harry saw Draco, that was all he wanted to do; he wanted their bodies to meld together, nude as the day they were born, into flushing passionate love. He wanted to have Draco’s pale form beneath him, his hands ghosting over ridges of muscle and bone until they were both exhausted and panting, lying prostrate and spooning, curled against each other where they fit perfectly. He wanted - if it were possible - to become one with his lover, to make them together forever, until the end of time.


	28. Yearning

Any time they were apart, any time they were separated for any reason, both felt the familiar sting. If either had been told in first year they would later end up yearning for each other, needing each other like they needed oxygen, they’d have laughed it away, put it off to someone’s poor sense of humour. Yet still, it was true - if Draco went away on assignment, Harry didn’t leave the house until he was back; if Harry was away, it was Draco’s turn to lie dormant until the return of his beloved. Maybe it was pathetic, but that’s love.


	29. Moral

There were a number of moral dilemmas going through Draco’s mind with what his heart was telling him to do. He always preferred a calculated method to the madness, where head came before heart - thought over emotion. The latter tended to lean towards illogical decisions, poor and hasty; this sort of thing couldn’t be rushed. For that matter, rarely had emotion ever come into his past relationships - if that’s the name for them. To throw caution to the wind and take up with a Gryffindor of all people? There was just so much wrong with that, he thought to himself.


	30. Resurrect

The life and death of a phoenix was an inherently fascinating topic, especially when it so closely mirrored reality from time to time; Harry simply couldn’t think of a better analogy for how Draco had recovered after the war, though it was a far more time consuming task than Fawkes ever went through. From nothing, a shell of a man going through the motions of day to day life, to a true Malfoy, a man who earned his way to the top again through hard work, bringing his family name back from the dead. It was truly an astonishing feat.


	31. Intuitive

Sheer intuition was exactly what told Draco where Harry was at any given point in time; that, and a keen observation that told him he was being followed almost all hours of the day. Really, it had been a long time coming. He had always found the Boy Who Lived an attractive thing - if not for his friends and House - and now that he knew he held some interest, it was about time. Careful planning, intuition letting him know that exact moment: then lips rounded a corner, meeting a pair previously unmet; hands worked through hair. Malfoy cunning wins again.


	32. Time

If they had anything, it was time. Once you had spent years hating someone with every fibre of your being, loving them with those same fibres was strangely easy; if only they had realised it sooner, maybe years wouldn’t have been wasted on hapless arguments and traded blows. Maybe they would have been able to work past their differences, gotten the rest of the Trio to accept it, and spent the rest of days happy and without worry. But things rarely turned out how they were meant to be, and what was thought to be decades was now mere months.


	33. Merry

His mother had always been the jovial type, except around other people; not even around her husband was Narcissa as happy as she was around Draco. Harry wouldn’t have even noticed it, if it weren’t for the pair of them inviting him round the Manor for Christmas, a festival of merriment for just the three of them. The woman was beaming at him and her son alike, clearly pleased with Draco’s taste in men, and hardly heartbroken at all over the lack of grandchildren to be had. Never before had he realised she was such a lovely woman, Narcissa was.


	34. Doorway

Periodically, Draco liked to surprise his dear lover - he always found it kept some element of intrigue in their relationship, stable and fiery as it was. It wasn’t his most creative moment, he would later admit, but it certainly did achieve the intended goal; he met Harry that evening after work, clad in nothing but a small bow tied around his throat and a second down below. The grin on Harry’s face had been more than enough to get him hard, leaving the gift ready to be unwrapped by eager hands and teeth. Great start to an even greater night.


	35. March

It was one of those months when Draco wanted nothing more than to just cuddle up with a book and sleep through until the winter had passed. He always hated winter, never liked the nipping chill against his poor nose. If he had his way, in fact, he would simply curl up in Harry’s arm, burying his precious nose into that warm, sturdy chest, and simply stay there until rays of sunshine warmed his bare skin. And really, Harry had absolutely no issue with any of that dastardly plan of his dear lover’s; he was content lying there with him.


	36. Writ Large

Their relationship was the sort of thing easily described as love writ large; the tale of two men who once were known for their expressed hatred now turned on its ear and demonstrated in the exact polar opposite of how it once was. Over the years, it had grown from simple love to the stuff films were made of, to the stuff fiction was written about at length. Neither minded, of course - they were too proud of themselves and how long they had lasted to care much about anything else. Nothing could touch them then, nothing in the whole world.


	37. Consent

The first night they spent together was one of nervous, fumbling hands, one of hushed voices attempting to make sense of the situation. Neither had wanted to stray too far with the other, worried for the repercussions of their actions, and careful of what might later become; they kept it innocent as they could. So when Draco finally whispered the words Harry had longed to hear - words of consent, of permission - he couldn’t help but give it his best shot. Still nervous and fumbling, he drew their clothing away, exposing skin before sliding his hand down to his lover’s entrance.


	38. Promises

Two simple words, an assurance that he would always be there, that his arms would always be warm and waiting for the other, and he was putty in his lover’s hands; there was nothing he wanted to hear more than those simple words. Even more than the three words oft used too much, they proved undying loyalty, never ending affection and trust that couldn’t be rivaled by anything. Not even myriad kisses, not even touches teasing and tempting could take the place of a promise, well made and well kept. Neither of them would tempt fate by breaking their word.


	39. I Confess

The truth never came easily to the blond. In fact, it was probably one of the hardest things for him to say. It liked to stay on the tip of his tongue, the proper words always avoiding him like the plague. Not that he ever had reason to speak the truth - short of the insults he managed to come up with, always with but a grain of truth to them - but from time to time, he wondered if it were even possible, if he were properly capable of it. Some people just made him want to speak those hidden truths.


	40. Obsession

To be quite frank, Harry had always been obsessed with Draco Malfoy. From first year, when the other boy was fascinating in his absolute disdain for almost everyone around him, to sixth, when Draco had become some kind of enigma, someone to be understood and tracked - it was possibly suspicion that had led Harry on a wild goose chase, but however the means, the end was always the same. He was obsessed, there was no two ways around it; was it necessarily a bad thing? Hardly. If anything, it was pleasant - Harry liked having something to focus on, even him.


	41. Portrait

Harry stared up at the portrait, massive and intimidating where it hung in the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor. He doubted he had ever seen anything so realistic in his life, so resembling the immediate family of his lover in their slight movements. Draco shifted high above him, far larger than life, and looked awkward, as if he wanted to be anywhere but there; Narcissa sat demure as always, the small smile on her lips pulling wider as she looked at her family; Lucius, as always, glowered out from the canvas, eying Harry. He couldn’t help but shiver to himself.


	42. Swollen

Harry could feel his mouth watering at the sight already from where he knelt; it was the only thing within his vision, and all he wanted to focus on. The curve of pale flesh, swollen and juicy - full and twitching, ready for the heat of his mouth, and the wetness of his tongue against it. He could practically taste his lover already in the back of his throat, and momentarily wiped salivation from the corners of his mouth before lowering himself to take that hearty length inside, humming his satisfaction at the way his love filled his mouth fully, eager.


	43. Unspoken

If words unsaid could be properly considered language, Draco was sure that he would be fluent; he had the method of speech down to an art, communicating thoughts through simply a narrowing of the eyes, a quirk of a brow, or the curl of his mouth. While Harry was hardly a master of it, he had certainly learned over the years exactly what the blond meant by certain facial twitches. He had even gone so far as to have learned which ones meant he was to be approached, which meant he preferred solitary, and when he was in the mood.


	44. Ferocity

Sometimes, Harry could be an absolute animal, Draco decided. He was a delicate flower, nothing to be molested or treated as if he couldn’t possibly break; perhaps he did like it rough from time to time, but there were times he hardly wanted bruises marring his beautiful pale skin. Especially if he had to see his mother the next day. He just didn’t understand, that lover of his. Of course, there was no making up for that sexual savagery of Harry’s; he just didn’t always appreciate the consequences of the actions. He wondered if it would, one day, kill him.


	45. Darkness

Harry had grown fond of the darkness, provided it was familiar - though it reminded him of his tiny, dank closet of a childhood home, there was something comforting about its inherent silence, and the secrets it kept. Draco felt quite the opposite, not fearing the dark, but hardly enjoying it. So rare was it for him to simply lie content in the night’s quiet embrace, relaxed from head to toe, unlike his lover. The brunet often took it upon himself to help satisfy Draco’s worries, his nocturnal trembles, though he never knew from where they stemmed. And likely never would.


End file.
